Dark Angels
by SilvermarkOracle
Summary: Angels aren't always dressed in white. Sometimes, they're dressed in black and blood. And sometimes, people are far, far more than all they seem. (Prologue is set in 1975)
1. Prologue

**_Angels aren't always dressed in white._**

* * *

Amya knelt on the roof of the building, staring down at the scene below her. She had failed her mission. She was too late to warn him that his friend that betrayed him, and that his children were in danger.

"I will not fail again," she murmured, as a sheet of fine paper fluttered right into her hand, as if given to her. Written there were two names, not one. Unusual, really. Amya tilted her head slightly as she noted the words written beneath.

 _Due to your recent record of failures, your next assignment will be partaken as a mortal._

 _You have ten human years to set your affairs straight. This is your final chance._

Bowing her head, staring down at the scene below her, a man being placed into a police cruiser. "I am sorry, Noah."

Standing, she spread her wings, the inky black of a raven, and took to the sky.

"I will give your sons my all."

* * *

 ** _Sometimes, they're dressed in black and blood._**


	2. Chapter 1

Amber looked at her watch again as she sat, waiting. She had no idea why it was taking so long; the appointment had been arranged six months in advance. She didn't look like the average girl who'd be sitting in a prison, waiting to meet with not one but two prisoners. A fitted dress, silver purple with gathered details, shaped her curves. Black pumps with three-inch, silver skull heels adorned her feet, securing her hex-net hose in place. Black fingernails tapping on the guard's desk, thumbnails embellished with silver bats. Plum lipstick, severe cat-eye liner, feather false lashes, and black hair spilling down her back in long, straight locks completed the goth look she cultivated.

Only one thing didn't lend itself to her look - the silver pendant on its thin chain that rested just above the neckline of her dress, taking the form of Mjolnir, the Hammer of Thor.

"Never expected to see someone looking like you visiting these two boys," the guard said, making small talk.

"What, am I too demonic?"

"Pretty much," the guard laughed. "What brought you here?"

Amber smiled sweetly and repeated the easy statement she'd been told to give the guards who asked why. "Essay for a criminal justice course. It was random draw who got to interview whom, and I got these two. The professor paid for my trip over here and everything."

"Well, these two are pretty good people."

"But they're in prison."

"They didn't do wrong. They were just playing executor of their god's will."

"Miss Crescenzi?" Amber looked away from the guard at the desk, to the guard at the gate. "They're ready for you. If you'll follow me?"

* * *

"Who th'fuck are **_you_**?"

Amber relaxed comfortably, a notepad on the table in front of her, blank, pen laying on it, with two tattooed Irishmen seated across from her. The darker-haired of the two had spoken, and was leaning closer to her, while his lighter-haired brother leaned back.

"Didn't the guard tell you? I'm Amber Crescenzi, a criminal justice student with a little assignment on how the criminal mind works. Or at least, that's what I told them."

"So who are ya?" the lighter haired twin said now, studying the goth idly.

"My name really is Amber Crescenzi, and I am a criminal justice student - but there's no assignment on how the criminal mind works. Instead, I'm here because a group would like you out of here and back at what you do best." Amber grinned, plum lips parting over white teeth. "Don't worry about the mics. Our group has an in here. I just needed a convincing enough cover to get in myself."

"Why?" Connor asked. "Why get ya in?"

"Because I doubt you'd believe it if I put it in writing."

"Then explain."

Amber sighed, grabbing up her pencil, and writing some quick notes. "You remember your first major situation?"

"Yeah," Connor said, leaning forward in mild interest now. "Copley Plaza Hotel, nine Russian mobsters."

"I saw it happen the day before you did it," she said. "I knew one of the bodies would be behind one of the sofas. I knew just how violently Petrova's eyes would blast from their sockets. I knew a friend of yours would show up soon after the bloodshed, and that you would scare his pants off." She smiled slightly then. "I am sorry, about Rocco. I...I could have warned you."

"What th'fuck do ya mean? You couldn'ta been more th'n, what, twelve?"

"Sixteen. Old enough to make a phone call to the person helping you. And I didn't, because I hoped - as I had with all the others - that what I was seeing wasn't real. That it was an overactive imagination, for once." Amber sighed gently, tapping her eraser on the page. "I didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Y'couldn't've done anything," Connor said, still oddly calm and polite. "What happened was meant t'be."

"Yeah. Wouldn't've changed anything even if y'tried."

Amber laughed softly. "Fair enough. Anyway. We have a plan." Her free hand wrapped lightly around the silver hammer at her throat, tracing the designs on its surface gingerly. "Two days from now."

"What took ya so long?" Murphy asked. "I mean...s'been ten fuckin' years."

"Murph!" Connor objected, smacking his brother's shoulder.

"It's fine, Connor," Amber said lightly. "Yes, it's been ten fucking years. We had to work out a plan, and wait until you guys had fallen off the public radar. They skipped over the fifteenth anniversary thing for the Copley Plaza Hotel, so we gave an extra couple years."

"There's still gonna be a ripple in the underworld, when we get out," Connor said.

"I know. That's why we're not focusing on Boston. I know it's home turf for you two, but you're known for it. If we take you out of where you're known, there's a lessened chance of being spotted immediately. Especially if you're not being yourselves in general."

"How d'you suggest we do that?"

"Change your habits - at least the ones the public sees. In moving into the Synchronicity House - a boarding house my group operates in Orlando, Florida - you would have access to a lot of the things you're used to. Just smaller. It is a place of coexistence, where most everyone has a room of their own, but there are shared bathrooms, and room-shares can be requested."

Both of the MacManus brothers let that sink in, staring at nothing, as Amber made a quick note on her page. A moment passed, and Connor spoke again. "Changing the habits the public would see - that means no goin' to church?"

"We have resources for you at Synchronicity House."

"And wha's this shit about visions?" Murphy laughed. "Y'got some weird ESP bullshit?"

"Tuned specifically to you two. Deal with it. I'm pretty much gonna be attached to you at the hip when you get out of here." Amber ripped the second page from her notebook, and tore it in half width-wise, sliding the two halves to the brothers. "This contains instructions. Keep them close. Hide them. You have less than a minute before the guard comes in."

Connor folded his slip tightly, tucking it quickly down into his sock, while Murphy folded his own and slid it into the back of his cigarette carton. Connor looked at Amber. "You comin' that night?"

"I'll be there."


End file.
